


Dream a Little Dream

by Syntaxeme



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Deception, F/M, Flirting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to Xibalba's exile, he hasn't seen or spoken to La Muerte in hundreds of years. That probably explains why he's dreaming of the time before their falling-out, when he could hold her whenever he wanted. But it's possible there's more to it than harmless reminiscence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream a Little Dream

_Anoche soñé contigo y esta manana no me quiero despertar._

_Last night I dreamed of you, and this morning I didn’t want to wake up._

**…**

            He woke in unfamiliar surroundings, unsure as to how he’d gotten there. Well, maybe not _entirely_ unfamiliar. All this color…he certainly wasn’t in his own palace in the Land of the Forgotten. He sat up to have a better look at the reds and yellows and greens that made up the room, decorated with flowers and streamers like some lively fiesta. It was a style he recognized immediately, but how—? As he began to move, the softest noise instantly paralyzed him.

            “Mmh….” He looked down, and there, at his side, lay his lover—or his former lover, before his exile. He was…in her palace? How could that be? As she stirred and turned her eyes up toward him, a warm shiver ran down his spine. He swallowed reflexively, almost unable to believe what was happening and in awe of the beauty he’d been denied for so long.

            “Mi amor?” he said tentatively. She smiled, and his heart all but melted.

            “Buenos días, my love,” she said, sitting up to snuggle into his chest. His heart was pounding, and it didn’t go unnoticed. She lay her hand on top of it and looked up at him in concern. “Is something wrong?”

            “I…I’m not sure how…I thought….” He was at a loss. His exile meant being completely cut off from her, yet there she was, as gentle and affectionate as ever. The internal conflict of hope and despair was too much to process. Seeing how distressed he was, she crawled into his lap, sitting up on her knees to wrap her arms around his neck.

            “Relax, my darling. Everything’s all right,” she cooed, stroking her fingertips down the back of his neck. He was still half-asleep, and this felt so perfect—he resolved to stop questioning it. If she said it was all right, then it was. His head rested against her chest, and his arms wrapped tightly around her slim waist. “Hm. See? You’re fine.”

            “More than that,” he insisted. Her hair was down, dark waves cascading down her back, and he pushed his fingers through it to lead her into a kiss. She returned the gesture with surprising fervor—but perhaps her passion should no longer have surprised him at that point. His hand slid up her leg as it showed through the slit in her nightgown, and she broke away from him with a gasp. She swatted his arm lightly, but that didn’t stop him from burying his face against her long neck, practically intoxicated by her sweetness.

            “Mm. Balby, please,” she murmured, pulling away from him. Her cheeks were tinted just the slightest bit pink, only making her more tempting. “Give me a little while to wake up, hm?”

            “If you insist.” Still, he didn’t take his hand from where it rested on her thigh. She lay her head against his shoulder, and they sat in tense but comfortable silence, each wanting to be closer to the other.

            “If I could, I would keep you here,” she said at length, resting her weight—what little there was—against his legs. Since most of her height came from her legs, he was several inches taller from this vantage. “ _Here._ Always.” His fingers combed absently through her hair, over and over.

            “And you would stay where you are?” She nodded firmly, and he laughed. “All right, I’m sold. I can think of worse places to spend eternity.”

            “Oh, is that so?” she asked, turning a playful smirk up at him. “I dare you to think of a better one.” He leaned back against his hands, face set in a look of mock-concentration. Just as she was about to tease him again, he grabbed one of her hands and pulled her down, pinning her back to the bed and kneeling over her.

            “This,” he said. “Might be better.” She squirmed and pushed halfheartedly at his shoulders, but she was laughing.

            “You’re awful,” she said, her laughter fading into something breathless and longing as his lips met her neck. “Mh…my love….”

            “Hmm?” She sounded more encouraging than anything, and her hands had slid up the back of his neck as if to hold him closer, so he didn’t stop. One of her sleeves had slipped off her shoulder, so he was slowly covering her bare skin with kisses. The way she whimpered and writhed beneath him, how could he possibly resist? It was like eating a particularly attractive candy. With that thought in mind, he nibbled softly at her skin to steal her breath again.

            Suddenly, her nails dug into his neck, and sharp teeth closed on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His immediate fear was that he’d hurt her, but she groaned deeply in desire and dragged him up for another intense kiss. This time, when his hand met her skin, she answered with a badly-muffled moan, struggling to catch her breath. “Mh—my love, I…I can’t….”

            “Then let me.” He didn’t back off, but neither did he advance. Looking into her eyes, he asked plainly, “Do you want me to stop?”

            “No!” Her answer came too quickly, betraying just how much she meant it, and she covered her mouth with one hand to avoid saying anything else she might regret.

            “Then relax,” he said, repeating what she had said to him only a few minutes ago. His hand slid high enough to brush her hip, and she let out a soft, “ooh” into his ear. Pressing closer against her, he sighed, “Te amo, Catrina.” That was her breaking point; it was all she could take.

            When he heard her sob, he quickly backed away, shocked to find her crying with both hands covering her face. Had he misread her body language? “Mi amor, what happened? I didn’t mean….” She was shaking her head at him. She managed to sit up, but as much as he wanted to comfort her, he hesitated; if he had done something to upset her this much, surely she wouldn’t want him to touch her again. She dispelled this fear by moving closer to lean her head against his chest. He gingerly put his arms around her and waited as she recovered, seeming determined to dry her tears quickly.

            “I’m sorry.” She didn’t move from where she sat. “I don’t know what came over me. Just…overwhelmed, I suppose. I’m all right.” Being who he was, he could easily tell that she was lying—but he felt it was better not to press the matter for the time being. Instead, he kissed the top of her head and left it at that. “Could we…stay in bed a while longer? I’m not ready to leave yet.”

            “Whatever you want.” As long as he could stay at her side, everything else seemed trivial. They crawled back under the plush, red covers, and she curled up at his side once again. He hadn’t intended to go back to sleep, but he found himself quickly growing tired. As he thoughtlessly stroked her hair, his eyelids only grew heavier. Just as his consciousness was starting to slip away, La Muerte spoke again.

            “I love you,” she said, kissing his lips softly. He smiled at the words he had wanted to hear for so long, but before he could respond, he was asleep again.

**…**

            Only when she was certain that he was fast asleep did she leave his side, fighting back tears once again. With a wave of her hand, she dispelled the illusion she had formed in his room, leaving everything cold and gray once again. She slipped carefully out of the bed, leaving him in a magic-induced slumber that would last for some time and cursing herself for what she’d done. She had known that pretending wouldn’t be easy, but she never expected it to be _so_ hard.

            She’d just wanted to see him. Even for a few minutes. Of course, his exile made it impossible for them to meet elsewhere; this was the only way that it could even come close to what they’d had before. _He would be proud of me_ , she thought. _If he knew I had deceived him so well._ And she had planned to stay longer, but seeing him and remembering everything—how well he knew her, the way her heart tightened when their eyes met—there was no way that she could stay. She dressed in thoughtful silence, still feeling the very real sting he had left on her neck. The mark and the pain that came with it were bittersweet reminders of the “dream” they had shared. Part of her hoped it would heal soon. Part of her wanted it there forever.

            Let him think it was a dream, at least. Let him wake without the false hope she had foolishly, selfishly given herself. Sharp pain was better than a dull ache and a wish for relief that would never come.

            She paused at the side of the bed before she could leave, leaning down to kiss his temple one more time. “Sweet dreams, my love.” And she disappeared, sure to leave no evidence of her presence.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think and any areas of characterization on which I could improve; I know I'm still getting used to each one's personal speaking style.


End file.
